


19 years

by Danagirl623



Series: Parentlock [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 02:09:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14415375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danagirl623/pseuds/Danagirl623





	19 years

Rosie Watson let herself into her papa’s office. She threw her bag down and ripped off her coat. She went through the office to the tiny lab behind. She slammed the door and sat down at the microscope to examine the slides on its tray. At 19, she shouldn’t be slamming doors, but she had a bad day.  
Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock Holmes observed his only child. She sent off waves of fury. “Good afternoon.” He greeted her calmly. “How was your maths test?”  
Rosie actually growled. “Stupid.” She pushed herself away from her microscope. “I don’t want to science today.” She should have cringed at herself for using a noun as a verb.  
“Did you have a bad day?” Sherlock was always the observant one.  
“Where’s dad?” she asked., avoiding his eye.  
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You were crying. You failed a maths test.Impossible” Sherlock studied her. Deductions flying at him faster than he could say. “Oh, your teacher pulled a power play.”  
“Stop!” she shouted, anger coursing through her. She knew that her papa couldn’t always control himself with the deductions, but it still annoyed her. “I want my dad.”  
“He’s not home. I am. Talk to me.”  
Rosie eyed him. He never invited feelings conversations. “Papa. I’m so mad I could shoot the wall.” She said, evenly. “Shoot the wall” had become family slang for “extreme feelings”.  
“Do you want to go to the shooting range?” Sherlock asked, knowing that wasn’t what she meant. Rosie felt the love and concern coming off her papa. It filled her heart full and made tears roll down her cheeks.  
“I failed a test!” she started sobbing, throwing herself in Sherlock’s arms. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head. He had been the main educator in Rosie’s life. He even homeschooled her from age 10 on. So now in her second year of college for her to fail a test, (and a MATHS test at that) it was inconceivable. Sherlock felt powerless as Rosie sobbed through her tears. Yes he had been around for all but a few months of her life, but he never got the knack of these emotional things. This was very clearly John Watson’s terrority.  
“Fancy a cuppa?” She managed sounding exactly like his husband.  
“Do you fancy a cuppa?” he asked. She nodded. “Go ahead upstairs and start the kettle. I’ll cover our scopes.” Rosie wiped her tears. She kissed Sherlock’s cheek before excusing herself. Sherlock very quickly covered the microscopes. He didn’t even bother removing the slides. They would keep for a few weeks at room temperature.  
John! Help! 911! Xo SW  
Sherl- is this really a 10/10 need me home now situation? JW  
9.75/10. Rosie failed a test. SW  
Coming, dear. JW 

Sherlock joined her in about 10 minutes after he got himself together enough to do his dad job. Rosie was coming down the steps in her oldest and most comfortable pair of PJs when the kettle started whistling. “Have a seat, dear heart.” Sherlock instructed, finishing the tea himself. Rosie curled up on her arm chair with the last blanket Mrs. H had made before she died. Rosie felt pitiful and stupid. Her aged bulldog picked up on her emotions. He trotted over and lay on her toes. Her papa brought her a cup of tea with her Loch Ness Monster brewer in it. She smiled at the memory of the week she and papa spent looking for the wild beast. “Thank you.”  
Sherlock sat in his armchair. “John’s on his way, if you’d like to wait.”  
“Ok, daddy.” She said in a very small voice. She rarely called him “Daddy.” So to hear her call him that made him understand how upset she was.  
They sipped on tea in silence waiting for John. Sherlock strained his ears to hear his husband ascent up the 17 stairs. The door swung open and John laid eyes on his family. First he looked over Rosie, red-eyed, comfy clothes, her two comfy items (the blanket and the dog). Then he looked at his husband. He was pretending to explore his mind palace while he covertly observed Rosie. John grinned at them. They both filled his heart with love.  
“Hello, my dears.”  
Rosie’s eyes lit up when she saw her dad. She placed the tea down and went to him. She was almost a whole head taller than him, but he was still her hero. He could fix this, somehow. She threw herself into his sturdy arms and started crying again. John held his daughter and made “shush, shush” noises in an attempt to soothe her. Sherlock stood up and kissed John on the head. He tried to pull away to escape the emotions when John’s strong hand stopped him. John heard Rosie’s cries start to face. He released her with a kiss. “Go get in your chair. I’m going to restart the kettle for myself and get into pjs too.”  
“Papa, put your pjs on too!” Rosie commanded sounding like the demanding child she was. “You know the rules. Princess has a bad day, she gets pjs and dumplings and compliance from the men in her life.” She tried to smile.  
Sherlock smiled but called out, “Rosie Watson’s an overindulged spoiled brat.”  
John laughed at the two of them as he went to Sherlock’s and his bedroom. He changed out of his work clothes before Sherlock managed to join him. “Your daughter.” he huffed.  
John pulled on his ratty wedding night pjs. “You created this person. She is a mini-Sherlock in more ways than she is a mini-John.”  
Sherlock ignored that comment. “John.” he whined, drawing out the “John.” “Don’t wear those. They are so old and gross. Can’t you wear newer pjs? The Tardis ones? The “proud father of” ones?”  
John grinned at him. “Princess Rosie said “papa! Get pjs on!” and Papa Sherlock jumps to comply. Yet when I, her lowly birth dad, tries to please the princess I displease my king.”  
“We don’t follow the feudal system here.” Sherlock grinned at him, approaching slowly. John had sensed Sherlock’s mood shift, but wasn’t sure which way it was going. That is until Sherlock wrapped his arms around him with lust in his eyes. “Everytime you wear those pjs I think of how pretty you look with my come all over your face.” Sherlock said, huskily. Sherlock leaned in to steal a kiss. “I’d like to see it again sometime.”  
The kiss left John stupefied in its wake. It was a full minute before John could respond. Which he did with a glazed over look. “Whore.”  
“Yours!” Sherlock said in the same tone he used to proclaim “bored!”  
“I’m not changing pjs. You change your associations.”  
“I won’t.” Sherlock grinned pulling out an old pair of flannel pjs.  
“Then I guess you’ll just suffer.” John said, grabbing his dad sweater that Rosie had knit him. He stepped into his tatty old slippers and went to the kitchen.  
He set about making tea, while he heard Rosie order dinner. He laughed because she was such a mini-Sherlock in so many aspects, but the feeding her loved ones was pure John. The kettle interrupted his musing. He grabbed the tea supplies and went into the living room with Rosie.  
“Dad, why do you wear that horrible sweater?” She groaned.  
“Mrs. H helped you make this. I love it. You and your father hate my clothing especially stuff that you give me. It’s old and tatty because I wear it over and over because it’s comfortable.”  
“You’re too good looking to wear such old clothing.” Came Sherlock’s voice form the bedroom.  
“Stop it, Sherl.” John said, then turned to his daughter. “Your papa is a spoiled rich boy who only wears his outfits once.”  
“Technically, so am I.” She smiled, then shrugged. “Uncle Myc tells me all the time how spoiled I’ve become.”  
Sherlock was all smiles when he came out of the bathroom freshly showered. John gleaned he only showered to masturbate, and hoped that his sweet innocent little Rosie didn’t deduce it. “Tea love?” John smiled, at him. Sherlock walked past him on the way to the tea kettle. He smelt like shower gel, conditioner, and something else. Something else… Oh! Anticipation. John slapped his arse as he went by with his tea cup. John waited until his husband had sat down and winked at him.  
“Dads.” Rosie whined, feeling grossed out. “Can you two stop being so in love? It’s so freaking gross.”  
“Sherlock, stop grossing our daughter out.”  
“Sorry daughter mine.”  
“So?” John asked, cradling his tea cup.  
“I failed a test.” Rosie confessed, lowering her head.  
“What happened?” John looked at Sherlock and shared a “what the fuck?” look. Then he looked across the triangle of arm chairs to study his daughter as she spoke.  
“The maths professor is an an arsehole.”  
“Inappropriate!” Sherlock and John teased her together.  
“He gave me a zero because thinks I cheated on my test.”  
“Arse-”  
“I need more data.” Sherlock interrupted John in abusing his daughter’s teacher.  
Rosie cradled her tea, then glanced out the window. “Food’s here.” She announced, getting up to fetch it. Sherlock waited until she was out of earshot.  
“She didn’t cheat.”  
“You request data, yet have an opinion already.” John tisked at him. “You hate insufficient data.”  
“John. She’s our daughter. She doesn’t cheat.”  
“You would. You have. Go get plates.”  
“I used to do that.” Sherlock corrected.  
“You are an insufferable cock.” John said.  
Sherlock huffed and walked away muttering. He came back with plates. He placed one at each table next to the armchairs.  
Rosie brought the dinner up. “Dad.” She smiled, teasingly. “Your number fan asked about you.”  
John groaned. “Stop encouraging him.”  
“Dad!” Rosie mocked confusion. “The very thought! As I am constantly being told you are an old broken down buffer who still makes heart eyes at your husband.”  
“So are you cheating on your maths test?” John asked, accepting his dinner.  
Sherlock settled into his seat too. “John, you are accusing when you should be questioning. This is why I did all the questioning, my dear heart.”  
“I’m not a cheater.” Rosie sat herself down, and opened her dumplings. “I’m cleverer than the teacher. I don’t tell him that. Daddy says that it’s a bit not good, but I did show off the first day of class. He put a maths question on the whiteboard and said first person who solved got 50 bonus points. As soon as he called on me, I told him the answer. He was flabbergasted, but didn’t correct me.” Sherlock grinned beyond proud of his daughter. She was so much like him and not just the brains, but also using John Watson as her moral compass.  
“That doesn’t sound like showing off.”  
“So today he hands back our tests. He wrote “See me” on it, but no grade. After class I went up to him. He ripped into me. He told he thinks it’s ridiculous that some home-schooled freak was accepted into this school and that I only got in because my dads gang-banged the entire admissions department. He also said something about using the name “Holmes” as a sword and “Watson” as a shield. He knows that I cheated and I won’t get away with it. He doesn’t have proof yet, but he’ll get it. He doesn’t care that my dads are famous. He expects me to work hard regardless. Well he said IRregardless. I had a hard time not laughing.”  
Sherlock grinned. “Wow. I didn’t know I’ve ever participated in a gang-bang.”  
“Only in the press my love.” John grinned.  
“And then. That’s it.” She shrugged.  
“False.” Sherlock said, watching her intently. “You have the last strand in your hand. Weave it.”  
“Papa. Don’t make me say it.”  
“Rosamund, we’re in our truth triangle. You have to say it.” Sherlock reminded her.  
“Is it worse than the gang-bang comment?” John asked.  
“Much worse.” Rosie said, nodding. She looked down at her dinner and savagely attacked it. She was starving after telling what happened.  
“So what are you going to do?” John asked, wryly. “That is IF you don’t choke on dinner.”  
“Nothing. He’s my teacher.”  
“That’s bullshit.” Sherlock said. “Do you think your father would let that stop him? Do what he accused. Use our names as weapons. When all else fails, text Uncle Myc.”  
“Inappropriate love.” John said, gently. “Email the head of his department.”  
“He is own head of department.”  
“Dean of students.” John said. “There is always a higher court of law.”  
Sherlock snorted. “I am the highest court of law.” John shot him a look. “Unless my husband disagrees.” Sherlock said, meekly.  
“I wish you’d think about what you were saying before you spoke.” John said to Sherlock. “And you.” he turned to Rosie. “I wish you’d defend yourself.”  
“I mentioned I was able to do this math when I was 14, so why would I steal anything.” Rosie said. “I’m your daughter too, Dad. I know my worth. This is only one bad grade.”  
“There’s no reason to fail a test.” Sherlock said. “You’re too smart to fail!”  
“Papa.” she groaned.  
“Remember that time you barely got an A? You punished yourself.” he directed a look at Sherlock.  
“It’s not ok to fail.” Sherlock repeated.  
“Love, did you bring the test home?”  
“Yes dad.”  
“Go fetch it for your Papa to grade.” Rosie stood up trailed by her elderly bulldog, Captain. She disappeared into her Papa’s office. “Sherlock, husband mine, you are missing the boat.”  
“Am I?” John nodded. Sherlock scoffed. “You just told her that it’s ok to fail!”  
“Sherl. Grade her test before you say something stupid.”  
Sherlock crossed his arms and looked down at his dumplings. He gave them the hateful stare John deserved. Rosie walked in to see her Papa ignoring his husband and her Dad chuckling at his husband. Rosie surrendered the test and a pen to her Papa. She sat down on her armchair and pulled her dog up with her.  
“Hey, daughter of mine.” John interrupted her thoughts. “Did you do your best on the test?”  
“Yes Daddy.” Sher said with a weak smile.  
“Then I’m proud of you. Papa is too.”  
“Rosie, I can’t find an issue with any of the pages I’ve looked over.”  
“Did you see the grammar error on question 17? My old teacher never would have made such an error.”  
“This test is perfect.” Sherlock conceded.  
“So what’s the plan, Rosie girl?”  
“I’m going to stop in tomorrow at the Dean’s office.”  
“She’s such a mini you.” Sherlock smirked at John. “Confirm in person. I’d have emailed or text.”  
“And thrown a temper fit.”  
“Ok so how was I wrong earlier?” John asked.  
Rosie sighed, knowing that her Dad wasn’t going to tell and her Papa was going to go insane until he knew. “Papa, you focused on the wrong message. Daddy knows my best is perfection so he was saying I did well on the test, but even if I didn’t I still succeeded because I did my best.”  
“None of what you said makes sense.” Sherlock said, no comprehending.  
“Papa, just admit you’re wrong.”  
“He will never admit that.” John said.  
“Can’t you withhold sex or something?” Rosie asked, blushing a bit.  
John roared with laughter. “Honey, there is no controlling your father. If I thought that would work, I’d have done it years ago.”  
“Your father would never try that tactic on me.” Sherlock boasted.  
“Ugh.” Rosie said, clearly grossed out. “You’re disgusting.:  
“Rosamund.” Sherlock said, severely. “You know if you think you are man enough to comment about anything sexual, your Dad and I are able to comment right back.”  
“I hate you guys. I’m going to my room to listen to angsty pop music and internet chat with strangers.” Rosie said, standing up.  
“Do you feel better?”  
Rosie grinned, leaning over to grab her dish. “Oddly yes I do.”


End file.
